


witchcraft and broken hearts. (chapter one)

by eterryl



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eterryl/pseuds/eterryl
Summary: gerard is finally about to complete his rites and become the newest witch of his coven. his final task? to break a heart. was meeting frank just a coincidence, or by satan's design?
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Kudos: 6





	witchcraft and broken hearts. (chapter one)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been listening to vincent price's piece on witchcraft and demonology from 1969, and the song 'nothing breaks like a heart' by miley cyrus. it's a weird combo and it made me write this.

there’s broken silence  
by thunder crashing in the dark

and this broken record   
spins endless circles in the bar

this world can hurt you  
it cuts you deep and leaves a scar

things fall apart

but nothing breaks like a heart

a breeze rustled through the tree leaves, though you could only hear it - it was too dark to see. although the moon was full, the foliage was too dense to illuminate the forest floor. in the centre of a small clearing stood a young man. he was motionless, completely naked, eyes closed, doing his best to calm his nerves and focus. at 22, gerard was considered a late bloomer for a witch. 

back in the heart of newark, a party was still raging. the kids had taken themselves from the house to the streets, occupying a nearby skate park, clad in masks and fake blood. it was halloween, after all, though that’s not what they were celebrating. 

it was frank’s 18th birthday. 

he was dressed in his typical token band t shirt, ripped jeans and tatty shoes. but tonight, he also sported a cape and a cheap skull mask. it stank of rubber and occasionally snagged on his nose ring, but he didn’t mind. there was something about the ghastly facade hiding his own face that made him feel comfortable. he peered around the park from his seat underneath a tree, at drunk teens swigging beers, clumsily kissing and attempting to perform shitty tricks on their cheap boards. he knew he was supposed to be having fun, and knew these people were supposed to be his friends. but in that moment frank may just have felt more alone than he’s ever felt in his life.   
a sudden flash drew his eyes up to the sky, just in time to hear the deep rumble of thunder break the numb silence inside his head. as a light rain began to scatter over the party, frank turned his head to look at the trees just beyond the park. the dark, thick mass of forest drew him in, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to run to it, into the cold and wet and dark, and disappear.

gerard moved around the clearing, lighting the candles. although it had just begun to rain, their tiny flames seemed immune to the water. he slowly walked toward the centre of the circle. his bare skin prickled in the cold, and shivering, he bent down to pick up the book laying on the ground in the centre of the clearing. he had almost completed every rite. gathering rare plants at all hours of the night, reciting chants over intricate patterns drawn in the dirt, sacrificing blood (both his own, and that of an animal sacrifice), and even allowing himself to be the subject of a sexual ritual (with whom he couldn’t say, he was blindfolded).   
his final task before being initiated into the coven sounded simple, though it was the one he dreaded the most: break a heart.

the rain came down swift and heavy. some of the kids didn’t care, but some of them squealed and scattered into the night looking for shelter. frank thought about following his friends, but something - he wasn’t entirely sure what - made him heave himself off the ground and walk toward the trees. the leaves softened the sharp pin pricks of the rain, but the thick shrubbery dulled the sound and blocked the light. it was like frank had covered his ears and closed his eyes, and was walking straight into the abyss. twigs snagged and tore his dollar store cape and scratched his arms. frank wasn’t deterred by the tiny hot, sticky droplets of blood, and his beaten vans continued to trek through the undergrowth. by now the rain and seeped into the eye holes of his mask, making the remnants of his eyeliner smudge and his nose run. frank still wasn’t sure what the fuck he was doing or where the fuck he was going, but he wasn’t able to stop. he must be miles away from his house by now. maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was the water stinging his eyes and making them play tricks on him - there was a light in front of him. barely, but it was still there. a soft, warm glow. it almost looked like candle light, but that was impossible - the thunderstorm had become relentless, and the downpour torrential. frank’s flimsy shoes could barely keep him upright to begin with, and a hidden branch sent him crashing to the ground. 

gerard’s eyes shot open as he spun to face the noise behind him. a skull rose from the ground and stared back at him, and for a split second he thought the ritual had worked. but upon further inspection, that wasn’t the face of the devil looking into him, and upon further reflection, he sure as hell hadn’t broken any hearts. 

gerard was suddenly very aware of his nakedness, and clasped his hands in front of his crotch. fuck, that’s pathetic. how are you supposed to be the spawn of satan and still get embarrassed over someone seeing your dick?

frank wasn’t entirely sure what he had stumbled upon, but it was both frightening and… kind of hot?  
he pushed his mask up to rest on top of his head so he could get a better look at the other man. he was pale and lean, but some baby fat still cushioned his face, obscuring his naturally sharp jaw. his black hair stuck to his forehead and lay flat over his ears, dripping with water. his black, sunken eyes were framed by dark purple rings, and there was a hint of something lingering in their darkness… fear? excitement? longing?

frank suddenly realised his was chewing on his lip ring - a nervous habit of his. 

3am. the candles circling the clearing extinguished in unison, causing both boys to jump.

had this skeleton boy been sent from satan for gerard to complete his rites? 

it was now too dark to see, but it was clear they were both still staring at each other. after what felt like an eternity, frank’s voice punctured the wet air.

‘what the fuck…?'


End file.
